


now I know my ABCs (next time won't you sing with me) [ ficlet prompts ]

by villiageidiot



Series: abc lifetimes [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:04:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/villiageidiot/pseuds/villiageidiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one wherein zombies attacked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Apocalypse Later

**Apocalypse Now (Apocalypse Later) :**

So yeah, Blaine’s a waiter.

The government takes care of the zombie thing, the world recovers and rebounds, and people return to normal. Sure, people like Blaine, the heroes that fought bravely, the ones that really made a difference in the lives of the people around them — they’re honored and revered and there’s an international outpouring of gratitude.

For like a month.

But people are fickle creatures and eventually, those brave heroes are forgotten in lieu of _Survivor: Season 130._ No one needs resistance leaders fighting a zombie army once there’s no zombie army.

But the world needs waiters.

:

“How was work?” Kurt asks hopefully when Blaine walks through the front door.

He shrugs and tries to put on a happy face. “I dropped a plate of lasagna on someone’s shoe and a baby pooped on the floor.”

Kurt looks like he’s about to laugh but he knows it’s probably not the best idea at this exact moment. “Come here,” he says quietly, making room on the couch. “Lie down and I’ll give you a back rub.”

Blaine gives him a crooked smile. “Thanks.”

He’s bone tired, though, and he’s asleep on the couch two minutes into the massage. He’s not sure how Kurt managed it but the next time Blaine opens his eyes, he’s in their bed with Kurt nestled into his side.

Some things haven’t changed, thankfully.

:

Blaine has a whole weekend off, a rare privilege for a server. Kurt decides to make the most of it. He starts off with breakfast in bed. As he sets the tray down on the bed, Blaine looks up at him through bleary eyes and smiles.

“You made breakfast,” he says. Nostalgia washes over him.

Kurt smiles back. “It’s no canned Spaghetti-Os but I suppose it’ll do,” he teases.

It looks amazing, French Toast with fresh fruit and hot coffee and bacon.

But sometimes Blaine misses the lukewarm Spaghetti-Os.

:

Kurt rents some of Blaine’s favorite movies, the predictable old-school superhero ones back from way before the zombie attack. Kurt hates those type of movies but when Blaine sits on the couch and Kurt lies his head in Blaine’s lap, he looks happy and comfortable and content. It tugs at something in Blaine’s chest. Without those zombies, Blaine would never have this, he’d never have _Kurt_. It feels weird to be thankful for the zombie attack but it’s not the first time he’s had that thought.

:

By supper time, Blaine gets antsy. He’s not used to spending the whole day indoors with nothing to do. Being alone with Kurt is pretty much his favorite thing in the world but for some reason, he’s tense and fidgety. He can’t escape the feeling of being useless, unimportant. The world doesn’t need him anymore and try as he might, French Toast and superhero movies can’t change it.

Kurt watches him carefully over the table. “So I was thinking,” he starts. “Maybe we should redecorate.”

“Oh?” Blaine says. “Sounds good.”

“Really?” he asks. “Good, I think it’ll be fun. I think we’ll have fun.”

Blaine raises his eyebrows. “We?”

“Obviously, Blaine,” he says with an eye roll. “I can’t do this type of the thing on my own.”

He gives Kurt a confused look because it’s _exactly_ the type of thing he does on his own. He’s redecorated the house twice already, actually, and never seemed to have a bit of trouble doing it alone. Off the top of his head, Blaine can’t even think of a single thing Kurt needed from him.

“Okay,” Blaine says slowly. “If that’s what you want.”

Kurt gives him an excited look. “Perfect. Let’s start tomorrow.”

Blaine can’t help but smile. Kurt’s enthusiasm is contagious and yeah, the more he thinks about it, maybe it _could_ be fun. They could get a new bedspread and a better couch and some stainless steel kitchen appliances —

“Yeah,” he tells Kurt, kicking up his smile. “Let’s start tomorrow.

For some reason, Kurt looks like he accomplished something monumental.

:

He practically wakes Kurt up at dawn. Kurt is no morning person but he takes one look at Blaine’s hopeful expression and climbs out of bed before Blaine even has to try bribing him with coffee or sexual favors.

“Look at these sheets,” he tells Kurt an hour later, eyes lit up. They’re navy and gray and kind of remind him of the blankets back in their old place, the sheets Kurt slept on during his very first night at camp the day Blaine rescued him.

Kurt glances over from where he’s comparing some pillows and looks surprised. “Oh, you want new sheets?” he says.

“Don’t you?” Blaine asks. He kind of thought that was the point of redecorating.

“I just thought —” he starts before shaking his head and giving Blaine a smile. “I mean, yes. Of course we can get new sheets.”

“Okay,” Blaine says hesitantly. “You’re sure?”

“Definitely,” he answers. “New sheets.”

Blaine watches him cautiously for a moment. “And there’s a matching comforter. And shams.”

Kurt gives him that same weird smile. “Definitely. New shams.”

Blaine shrugs it off and heads to the cash register, awesome new bedroom in tow.

:

They head to a furniture store next. Kurt immediately zones in on some oddly shaped foreign thing that doesn’t even _look_ like a couch but Blaine’s eyes are drawn to a huge yellow couch in the back. It looks comfortable and happy and _bright_. It makes Blaine think of sunshine and possibility and new beginnings.

“This one,” Kurt says as he walks up to Blaine. He manages to keep most of the skepticism out of his voice but just barely. “This one?”

“Yes,” Blaine answers brightly. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s yellow.”

“It’s yellow and it’s perfect,” he says. “It makes me think of sunshine.”

Kurt takes a deep breath and gives Blaine a fond smile. “Sunshine it is, then.”

:

It’s an appliance store after that where Kurt lets him pick stainless steel over the sleek black things he obviously wants.

Then it’s flooring where Kurt lets him choose a more practical hardwood flooring over the artsy natural stone he’s been eying.

It’s kind of exhilarating, making decisions again. The closest he’s come to decision-making since the zombie days was the one time at the restaurant when one of his customers asked if she should get the chicken or the steak.

He didn’t realize how badly he wanted that, didn’t realize just how much it would make him feel valuable and important and _needed_.

And then he realizes he’s been making decisions all day. Like, _all_ of them, actually. He even chose their appetizer at lunch.

Blaine glances towards the other end of the aisle where Kurt’s running his hands over the curtains Blaine chose for them. He’s tugging at the material and holding it up to the light, a pained look on his face. He scrunches his nose in distaste before he feels Blaine’s eyes on him. His disdain fades immediately into a bright smile as he places the curtains back in the cart.

And _oh_. So that’s what this is about.

He wants to be insulted that Kurt’s patronizing him and arranging this elaborate plan but he can’t. It’s sweet and thoughtful and so very, very _Kurt_.

:

“This one,” he tells Kurt at the paint store as he holds up a color sample. It’s god-awful. “I like this color.”

Kurt blinks. “I—”

“I _really_ like it,” Blaine continues. “It’ll go great with our yellow couch.” It’s god-awful and no it won’t.

Kurt struggles to find words. “It’s puce.”

“It is,” Blaine says. “It’s called _Pleasantly Puce_ , actually.”

Kurt blinks some more. “I—”

He waits patiently.

Kurt takes a deep breath and looks like he’s about to cave when he shakes his head and lets out an annoyed sigh. “No. We’re not buying paint called _Pleasantly Puce_ , Blaine. Not in my house.”

Blaine smiles. “Our house?”

“Our house, whatever,” he says with an arched eyebrow. “Nothing puce is walking through that front door.”

Blaine laughs. “You pick then.”

He eyes him warily. “Really?”

“Really,” he says. “You didn’t have to do all of this but — thank you.”

Kurt’s quiet for a moment before he takes a few steps into Blaine’s personal space and drapes his arms over Blaine’s shoulders, tugging him close. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I _am_ happy,” he whispers before leaning in for a kiss. “ _You_ make me happy. That’s never changed.”

:

Blaine doesn’t get home until almost three in the morning after his next shift. He’s surprised to see Kurt still awake, watching TV and flipping through a magazine on their big yellow couch.

“You’re awake?” he says as he makes his way over to flop down next to him.

“Hm?” Kurt asks, distracted. “Oh, I don’t sleep well when you’re not here. So I just wait.”

He says it casually like it’s no big deal, like it’s common knowledge. He says it like nothing’s ever changed for him since that first night they met, the night he climbed on the floor just to be close to Blaine.

And maybe that’s how it is for Kurt, maybe nothing _has_ changed for him since then. Maybe Kurt still needs him like that, even now, even though maybe the world doesn’t need him anymore.

Blaine swallows thickly.

He so doesn’t care what the world needs anymore. _Kurt_ needs him, even just to sleep.

Some things really haven’t changed.


	2. Bombs Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one wherein Blaine is a CSI agent and Kurt works in the lab.

**Blood and Ballpoints (Bombs Away) :**

The thing with their jobs is that Kurt’s supposed to be totally safe. He works in a sterilized lab in a _police station_ , for crying out loud, surrounded by actual _police_. How much more protected could he be?

Blaine’s supposed to be the one at risk. He’s out in the field at a crime scene where like, an actual _crime_ just happened. The bad guy is usually still out there and Blaine’s standing smack dab in the middle of it all, exposed.

Needless to say, when it doesn’t work out that way, Blaine loses his shit.

:

They’re packing up the last of their sealed bags and getting ready to leave their latest crime scene when Mike freezes in the doorway, reading something on his phone.

Blaine stares at him quizzically. When Mike’s totally still for a full thirty seconds, Blaine says, “Mike?”

Mike looks over at him and Blaine’s surprised to see the tense look on his face. Normally, his partner is so cool and composed but right now, it looks like he’s on the verge of freaking out and trying to tamper it all down.

“What’s going on?” he asks him. “You look spooked.”

Mike blinks a few times. “There’s … been an accident.”

“Okay,” Blaine says slowly. “Where? Are we heading back to the lab to drop this off first or are we going to the crime scene?”

“Not that kind of accident,” Mike says. “An explosion.”

Blaine gives him another quizzical look. “Okay? Why are you being so weird about this? We’ve worked explosions before.” They’re awful, though, and Blaine’s not looking forward to it.

Mike takes a breath and seems to steel himself but before he can answer, Blaine’s pocket starts to buzz. He looks down at his phone and sees what’s got Mike so spooked. There’s been an explosion _at the lab_ and no one’s heard from anyone inside yet.

Their friends, their coworkers, Blaine’s _boyfriend_ , they’re all inside and no one’s heard a word.

:

They obey like, no speed laws while driving back, disregarding all street signs and traffic lights. It only takes them ten minutes to get to the station but it doesn’t really matter because they’re not letting anyone behind that yellow caution tape anyway, not even the field agents who spend their entire life working behind that same tape.

Blaine stares helplessly at the smoking building. He’s got one hand clenched into a fist by his side, the other dialing and dialing and dialing Kurt’s number, hoping that _this time_ , this time he’ll pick up the phone.

He never picks up the phone.

:

Finally, after what’s only an hour but feels like seventy, the lab techs start to filter out, all accompanied by EMTs. Kurt’s the second one out the door and, restricted crime scene or not, Blaine ducks under the yellow tape and rushes at him.

Blaine tugs him in for a tight hug and Kurt desperately clings back but after a few moments, he pulls away and gives Blaine a frantic look.

“It’s all gone, Blaine,” he says with wide eyes. “All of your evidence for that arson case you and Mike were working on.”

Blaine stares at him blankly because … _what the hell._

“I’m sorry,” Kurt hurries to add, still looking apologetic. “He — your suspect, he planted something. An explosive or a bomb, I’m not sure. He blew up most of the evidence you found and contaminated what was left.”

Blaine gapes a little. “Are you serious right now, Kurt?”

“Yes,” he answers weakly. “I’m so, so sorry. I _tried_ to —”

He grips the back of Kurt’s head and forcefully pulls him into a kiss.

“You almost _died_ ,” Blaine says after they break apart, resting his forehead against Kurt’s. “Why are you talking to me about destroyed evidence when you almost _died_?”

Kurt pauses and gives him a confused look. “I’m fine, Blaine. I’m okay. It’s your evidence—”

“You’re covered in _soot_ , Kurt!” he explains, eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re not fine! Your lab coat is singed! How is that _fine_?”

Kurt blinks and doesn’t say anything for a few moments. “I’m fine,” he says quietly with a crooked smile. “I’m okay, I promise, Blaine.”

Blaine’s still shaking with nerves but he doesn’t even realize it until Kurt places his hand on Blaine’s bicep in an effort to calm him. “I’m fine,” he whispers again.

Blaine nods. He carefully runs his thumb across Kurt’s cheekbone partially to wipe away some of the ash but partially to distract himself from the desperate fear still coursing through his veins.

He doesn’t quite trust his voice to say anything else yet so he just stands there, pulls Kurt closer, and ignores everyone scrambling around him, the EMTs, the cops, the CSIs. Behind the yellow tape and in front of a still-smoking police station, Blaine pulls Kurt close and just stands there.

:

A week later, after Blaine’s calmed down (but barely), he sits across from Kurt at a diner and says, “You should move in with me.”

Kurt cocks an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Blaine nods. “I don’t like where you live. It’s in a bad area. A car got stolen there two months ago, did you know that? And there were like two B&E reports last year, did you know _that_?”

Kurt tries not to smile. “Two whole break-ins in my neighborhood over the course of an entire year? Alert the authorities, Blaine; I’m living in the seedy underbelly of western Ohio.”

Blaine decides to ignore the sarcasm. “And maybe — have you ever thought about a new job? I bet you’d be good at so many things. Aren’t you kind of bored at the lab?”

Kurt’s still trying not to laugh. “And I’m assuming you have something in mind?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Blaine answers. “How about in medical billing? Or an administrative assistant? Maybe a magazine editor?”

“Ah,” Kurt says, nodding. “So something behind a desk, then. In an office building. Away from people. And probably explosives.”

Blaine shrugs. “It could be fun.”

Kurt gives him a skeptical look. “And I’m sure this has nothing to do with the events of last week.”

He scoffs. “Of course it doesn’t.”

Kurt rolls his eyes.

“And while we’re on the subject,” Blaine starts. “What about a new car? The one you’ve got now has good gas mileage, sure, but did you know there was a recall on that model two years ago? Something about a defective glove box—”

“Blaine,” he interrupts. “I’m not getting a new car. Or a new job.”

Blaine deflates a little.

“But I’m not opposed to a new neighborhood,” Kurt says with a smile.

So he immediately perks back up.

:

Blaine spends his next day off buying little plastic safety plugs for every outlet in his house and installing a fire extinguisher.


	3. Dead Ringer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one wherein Kurt and Blaine work in the Fringe Division.

**Doppelganger Double (Di)vision (Dead Ringer) :**

It’s their one year anniversary when it happens.

“We’ve been married for an entire year,” Blaine says with a grin as he shifts on the bed to roll on to his side and watch Kurt slowly start to wake up. “A _year_.”

The doorbell rings and Blaine smiles even harder. The flowers have arrived. He nudges Kurt out of bed. “Go,” Blaine tells him. “Answer the door.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and tries to look annoyed at being forced out of bed so early but he doesn’t pull it off as he tries to hide his smile. “Happy Anniversary,” he whispers, giving Blaine a quick kiss before climbing out of bed.

Blaine rolls back over on his back and stares up at the ceiling as he waits to hear Kurt’s pleased laugh at the massive bouquet Blaine had delivered.

But he doesn’t hear a laugh. He hears something fall and hit the ground, hears glass shatter, hears Kurt say, “Oh my _god—”_ It’s not a happy sound. He sounds _horrified_.

Blaine practically falls out of bed trying to get to the door as fast as humanly possible.

And there — in the doorway — is Blaine Anderson.

Blaine’s mouth drops open and Kurt says, “ _Oh my god_ ,” again.

The other Blaine just stares at them both with an impatient glare. A few seconds later, Mr. Schue pushes him out of the way and makes his way into their apartment.

“Mr. _Shue_?” Kurt asks. “Why are you in my apartment? What’s going _on_? And _who is that_?” he asks, voice getting high-pitched.

“It’s Sargent Schuester,” Mr. Schue says. “I’m not your high school glee club adviser.”

Blaine stands there, immobile and mute, because _what is happening and who is that in his doorway_.

“I told you to wait,” Mr. Schue says as he turns to narrow his eyes at the other Blaine.

The other Blaine rolls his eyes. “Like you would have waited if the love of _your_ life was abducted.”

Mr. Schuester pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine, just — sit, okay? Let me do the talking.”

Other Blaine lets out an annoyed huff and rolls his eyes. Blaine cocks his head and thinks, _huh, is that what I look like when I roll my eyes? How juvenile._

“Look,” Mr. Schue says as he turns to face the two of them. “I get that you’re confused and I can explain if you just give me five minutes of your time.”

“ _Who is that?”_ Kurt grits out, pointing to the other Blaine still standing in the doorway, leaning up against the frame. He turns to look over his shoulder and asks, “Blaine, who _is_ that?”

He shakes his head, eyes wide. “I —” No words come to him.

Kurt’s spazzing out and Blaine’s halfway there, too, so he walks over and grabs Kurt’s hand in his own. If they’re going insane, at least they can go insane together, side-by-side. That’s what marriage is all about, Blaine thinks to himself.

:

Mr. Schue — or Sargent Schuester, whatever — proceeds to give them the most insane story _ever_ about an alternate reality and a hole in the universe and how there are _two_ Blaine Andersons and _two_ Kurt Hummels and —

“This is ridiculous,” Blaine says quietly to Kurt with an incredulous laugh. “Right?”

“I —” Kurt starts, voice just as soft. “ _Yes_ , but how are there two of you in the room? I can’t figure out how to explain that.”

“We’re hallucinating,” Blaine suggests. “We had a couple of drinks last night; maybe Santana slipped something in them?”

Kurt hesitates as he tries to figure out if Santana _would_ do something like that. It’s sort of hard to tell.

“We don’t have _time_ for this,” the other Blaine says. “Why are we standing here explaining this? Just grab him and let’s get the hell out of here. We’ll have him back in time for dinner.”

“Grab who?” Blaine asks warily. “ Go where?”

Other Blaine nods towards Kurt. “Him. We need bait.”

Blaine’s jaw drops again and he tries to keep the look of skepticism and _panic_ off of his face. “Bait? Are you insane? You’re not using Kurt as bait!”

“Bait for what?” Kurt asks, eyes wide and borderline-hysterical.

Other Blaine rolls his eyes again and _ugh_ , Blaine decides he should never do that again if that’s what he looks like when he does it.

“My Kurt has been kidnapped and we need this one to — wait, why are we still explaining this shit? We can talk about this on the way.”

“On the way _where_?” Blaine asks again. “We’re not going anywhere!”

“Agreed,” the other Blaine says. “We don’t need _you_ , just him.”

Kurt’s eyes widen even more and his grip on Blaine’s hand gets tighter.

“He’ll be safe,” Mr. — Sargent Schuester promises. “We won’t let anything happen to him.”

Blaine steps in front of Kurt. “You’re not taking him anywhere. He’s not going anywhere without me.”

The other Blaine looks towards the ceiling and lets out an impatient sigh.

“Why do you even need me?” Kurt asks from behind Blaine. “What happened?”

But the other Blaine ignores him and looks straight at Blaine. He takes a few steps forward and Blaine tenses.

“What would you do?” Other Blaine asks, voice dropping low and turning serious. “If something happened to your Kurt, what would you do to get him back?”

Blaine doesn’t know how to answer that so he turns to give Kurt a questioning look.

So instead of breakfast in bed, they spend their anniversary climbing into another universe.

:

Blaine and Other Blaine sit in the back of a van as some agent straps a microphone wire under Kurt’s shirt.

“My Kurt used to have that same shirt,” Other Blaine says.

“Oh?” Blaine says. He has no idea how to make small talk with himself. “Not anymore?”

“No,” he answers, laughing. “Things got a little heated after one of our chases and — well, needless to say, it was missing most of the buttons after I tore it off.”

Blaine’s mouth falls open. “My Kurt probably wouldn’t speak to me for a week if I ripped that shirt off and ruined it.”

Other Blaine cocks his head and watches Kurt through the front window of the van. “I forgot how hot he looks in that shirt.”

Blaine shifts uncomfortably. “Right, okay.”

“Don’t you think so?” he asks, still staring appreciatively.

“Yeah, but — can you stop?”

Other Blaine looks over, finally tearing his gaze off of Kurt. “Stop what?”

“You know,” Blaine says, shifting awkwardly again. “ _That._ Looking at him like that. Don’t you have your own Kurt to stare at?”

“He won’t mind,” Other Blaine says.

“Okay,” Blaine says, starting to sound annoyed. “But _I_ mind. It’s — strange. Just … stop.”

Other Blaine laughs and looks back at the window.

“You’re doing it again,” Blaine tells him. “Don’t.”

But he _doesn’t_ stop and Blaine slumps back feeling helpless and wondering how his anniversary turned out like this.

:

The plan works. Within a few hours, the other Kurt is safely back in the van looking relatively unharmed save for a few small cuts on his face and a dark bruise on his lower arm. Other Blaine looks livid and borderline homicidal, and Blaine feels momentarily bad for whatever it was that left that bruise because Other Blaine looks _terrifying_.

Blaine watches the other Kurt for a few minutes, takes in his posture and mannerisms, sees the way he interacts with the rest of his Fringe team.

“Seriously?” Kurt asks from the seat next to him. “You’re checking out another man while sitting right next to me on our _anniversary_?”

“No,” Blaine answers defensively. “I’m just — looking. Noticing all of the differences.”

“Such as?” Kurt says, unconvinced.

“He slouches more than you,” he tells Kurt, still watching. “And he seems — I don’t know. Sharper. Tougher.”

“You don’t think I’m tough?” Kurt counters, voice sounding almost hurt.

Blaine looks over. “I think you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. I think emotionally, mentally, internally — no one is stronger.” He pauses. “But do I think you could tackle a lizard scorpion hybrid thing? No.”

Kurt ducks his head and tries to hide a smile. “Fair enough.” He watches Other Blaine for a moment. “He seems tougher, too. Angrier, maybe, with all that swearing. More intense.”

“And does that bother you?” Blaine asks, trying to feign a casual tone. “That I’m not more intense? That I don’t rip your shirts off?”

His eyes widen and he whips his head around to look at Blaine. “Don’t you _dare_.”

It’s Blaine turns to smile. “Good. That’s — I’m glad.”

“Me, too,” Kurt agrees. “I love you just as you are.”

:

(But on the morning of their second anniversary, Kurt lets Blaine rip off his shirt and Blaine throws a few four lettered words out.)


	4. End of the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one wherein they're both spies-turned-thieves.

**Espionage (End of the Line) :**

“What the hell is that?” Kurt hisses as soon as Blaine joins him at the back doors, just like they agreed.

Blaine turns around to see what Kurt’s pointing to. “What’s what?” he asks, squinting into the darkness. “I left my night goggles at your place, remember? I can’t see anything.” But before he can turn back around, he’s being pinned to the stone wall next to him.

“This,” Kurt grits out, pulling at Blaine’s black polo. “Did you think I was kidding when I said not to wear it?”

“Honestly?” Blaine says, a little thrown. “Yes.”

Kurt groans in frustration then pushes Blaine even closer to the wall. “You drive me _insane_ , god.”

Then they’re making out and Kurt’s pulling at Blaine’s pants. Blaine struggles to catch up because he _thought_ they were breaking into a French museum but nope, instead they’re apparently having public sex in a back alley. Kurt doesn’t even have his belt fully off when they hear the sirens in the distance, though.

Kurt pulls back and glares at him. “We didn’t even get the paintings, Blaine.”

“And that’s _my_ fault?” Blaine asks, wide-eyed. “You’re the one pushing me against a wall!” He pauses and lowers his voice. “That’s definitely not a complaint, FYI. You can keep doing that.”

“Oh, sure,” Kurt says with an eye roll. “Let’s have sex against a wall and just wait for the police to arrest us.”

Blaine shrugs. “Okay.” When he receives another glare from Kurt, he says, “Kidding, sorry. Let’s go.”

So that’s how they almost get arrested in France.

:

Blaine gets distracted when they break into a jewelry store in Portugal. He’s supposed to be in the basement vault waiting for Kurt but he passes by some rings and … pauses for a minute.

They’re nice rings.

They’re rings he knows Kurt would totally love.

They’re wedding rings.

He quickly scans the room for every camera, every laser sensor, every locked chain gate. It only takes him three minutes to formulate a plan, to know exactly where to go and when to move and how fast to do it. There’s a ring in the back corner of the second glass case. It’s white gold with engravings that he can’t quite see from his position but he knows, he _knows_ that this is the ring. He needs this ring. This is Kurt’s ring.

Before he can take his first step towards the case, before he can think about how _crazy_ he’s being — oh my god, they haven’t even been dating for a full year yet — there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“What are you _doing?_ ” Kurt whispers, annoyed. “You were supposed to be down in the vault.”

“I know,” Blaine says, apologetic. “I got distracted.”

Kurt looks down at the glass case Blaine’s standing right in front of — the glass case full of _wedding rings_ — and gives him a strange look. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Well, you have about four more seconds to be distracted and do … whatever it is you’re doing. Because in _five_ seconds, that front door is going to be swarmed with Interpol and we’ll be thrown in jail.” He narrows his eyes. “I don’t want to go to jail, Blaine.”

“Right,” he says, snapping back to reality. “Let’s go.”

The alarms have already sounded by the time they make it out the barred window.

That’s how they almost get arrested in Portugal.

:

“I’ve never had sex in a room with so many mirrors,” Kurt says in a hushed whisper.

Blaine looks around them as they stand in one of the Turkish palaces. “There _are_ a lot of mirrors,” he agrees, voice just as quiet. “I think it would be weird, though, don’t you?”

Kurt just stares at him. They’re both quiet.

“Maybe we should find out?” Blaine suggests.

Kurt’s already pushing him towards the bed before he even finishes the sentence.

By the time they’re buttoning their pants back up, the Turkish guards are already hunting through the palace, looking for the intruders that set the alarm off.

That’s how they almost get arrested in Turkey.

:

Blaine’s just about to scale the wall of a museum in Boston when Kurt rounds the corner to join him. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, out of breath. Then he stares at Blaine and his mouth falls open.

“What?” Blaine asks defensively, tugging at his black turtleneck. “I left the polo at home and tried to wear something that covered up as much skin as possible.”

Kurt’s still staring. “Did you have to wear a shirt so … form fitting?”

Blaine’s eyes widen. “Seriously? You want me wearing baggy clothes during a heist? That’s just asking for trouble—”

“I sort of want you wearing _no_ clothes,” Kurt clarifies as he drops his grappling hook and rushes at Blaine.

Blaine gets shoved up against another wall and _so_ isn’t complaining about the turn of events but Kurt composes himself after just a few minutes, to Blaine’s disappointment. They manage to scale the wall but as soon as they reach the top, Kurt’s shirt rides up and suddenly, there’s skin flashing and Blaine can’t do anything but stare and _dammit,_ Kurt’s wearing the painted-on black pants again —

When they’re getting re-dressed, they decide the museum — and Kurt’s Rembrandt — is a lost cause; they’ll just have to come back another night. Half-naked and caught off-guard, that’s how the security guard finds them on the roof. He doesn’t recognize them as the infamous duo wanted by Interpol and the FBI and the CIA, he just assumes they’re two sexual deviants getting their rocks off on a Boston rooftop.

That’s how they almost get arrested in Boston.

“If we get arrested for public indecency, I swear to _god_ , Blaine,” Kurt says as they scale back down the wall.

Blaine frowns. “It _would_ be terribly underwhelming, I’ll give you that.”

:

They sit at a McDonald’s later.

“This,” Kurt says, gesturing between the two of them, “is not working out.”

Blaine has two full seconds to have an epic panic attack before Kurt continues.

“We can’t be international thieves if we can’t, you know, _thieve_ things.”

“Agreed,” Blaine says cautiously, not really sure where this is going.

“So,” Kurt says, steeling himself. “Let’s quit while we’re ahead. I’m not cut out for prison.”

“Quit … and do what?” Blaine asks, still unsure.

He shrugs. “We’ll find a place in Europe somewhere, stay out the spotlight. New identities, all that.”

Blaine mulls it over. “Can we get a dog?”

Kurt blinks. “I — fine.”

Blaine grins. “New identities,” he says. “Europe. I like it.”

He smiles back and leans across the booth to give him a kiss but before he can, some teenaged McDonald’s cashier walks by and gives them a funny look. “Hey, aren’t you those two guys on the news? The guys that stole — hold up, stay right here. I’m gonna go call security.”

That’s how they almost get arrested at a McDonald’s.


	5. Forever Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one wherein they're both Hollywood stars.

**Frankly My Dear (Forever Yours) :**

Good news: Universal Pictures decides to fund _Forever Yours,_ an epic romcom with dozens of big Hollywood names. It’s hyped up to be epic. The budget is massive, the fan interest is intense, the script is amazing. It’s going to be a huge film with amazing success.

Better news: Kurt Hummel is one of the leads. The main plotline in this epic movie is a totally romantic will-they-won’t-they storyline for a gay couple. And Kurt Hummel is one half of that on-screen gay couple. The media calls it groundbreaking.

Blaine Anderson calls it irritating.

Is he an actor that knows everything on camera is fake? Sure. Does he know that it comes with the territory of dating another actor? Of course. But none of that really changes the fact that Kurt spends a lot of time _every day_ with some blond douchebag in a muscle shirt. Up close. On a closed set.

Sometimes they’re both half naked.

It’s an early Tuesday morning when he gets the first text. Blaine’s sitting in his living room reading over a new script when his phone buzzes with a text. _Get yo ass over here_ , is all it says. He doesn’t recognize the number so he assumes it’s an accidental text until another one comes in a few moments later. _Universal, lot three. He’s gittin nekkid._

Blaine stares at his phone until a third message pops up. It’s a picture message of Artie Abrams, some assistant director he met a few movies back, and behind him is a picture of Kurt, shirtless. And next to _him_ is blond douchebag, also shirtless.

Blaine grabs his keys and abruptly decides to check out his boyfriend’s new movie set. No particular reason.

:

Kurt’s eyes widen when he sees Blaine standing by the chair with _Kurt Hummel_ in big block letters. “Blaine,” he says softly with a pleased smile.

He gives Kurt a shy look and shrugs. “Thought I’d stop by and say hello.”

Kurt’s still smiling. “Well, I’m glad you did,” he says. “I have a break; let me show you around.”

He tugs Blaine along by his hand and it feels so personal, so _intimate_. And maybe that type of thing isn’t such a big deal for some people but for Kurt, it’s huge and Blaine sort of revels in it. Kurt grips his hand tightly all through out the set tour and within moments, Muscle Shirt is forgotten.

:

The next text is a week later. _Shit, they’re on a bed, where you at._

Blaine sits on his couch and briefly thinks about how ridiculous he’s being, how unnecessary this is. He trusts Kurt. He _knows_ Kurt. There’s no chance Kurt would ever do anything to hurt him. Kurt loves him.

But — this guy is blond. And built. And tall.

And Kurt has a ton of history with tall, blond, built boyfriends.

Blaine grabs his keys and decides to check out his boyfriend’s set. Again.

:

Kurt beams when he sees Blaine. They have lunch together at craft services and Blaine never once has to see Muscle Shirt Guy.

:

Blaine gets a lot of messages from Artie over the next few weeks ranging from ‘ _dude they have no pants on’_ the first week to ‘ _uh seriously you should check this shit out Kurt’s character has to wear a Speedo’_ the week after that to ‘ _i think i’m in love with your boyfriend shit look at those arms’_ which is helpfully attached to a picture of Kurt’s forearms being gripped by Muscle Shirt’s hands in some sort of passionate embrace.

Blaine spends a lot of time at the _Forever Yours_ move set.

:

The thing is, though.

The thing is that Kurt barely looks at Muscle Shirt. He never talks about him. Not in a secretive kind of way, like he doesn’t want to discuss him with Blaine, but more in a way that he sort of doesn’t care. Kurt genuinely seems indifferent to this guy.

Kurt’s got a blond, built co-star and he doesn’t seem to notice him _at all._

Instead, he lights up whenever Blaine comes to visit his set. He can’t wait to drag Blaine off with him to his trailer. The look on Kurt’s face always gives Blaine’s butterflies in his stomach like maybe he’s twelve years old all over again. He knows, then, he knows he has nothing to worry about.

He keeps showing up to set, though. He can’t seem to stop himself.

:

“I need to be upfront,” Artie says one morning as he wheels up to where Blaine’s sitting next to Kurt’s empty chair. “I’m sending those texts as a director, not a friend.”

Blaine looks up from his script. “I’m sorry?”

“Kurt’s a good actor,” Artie tells him. “But he’s closed off. _Too_ closed off.”

“Okay,” Blaine says slowly.

Artie gives him a considering look. “When you’re here, he’s open. He’s uninhibited. He’s _real_.”

Blaine’s still a little confused. “Okay,” he says again.

“I need you here,” Artie continues. “He’s better when you’re here.”

Blaine can’t think of what to say. “Oh,” is all he can come up with.

“If you stick around for a few days, I’ll stop sending you manipulative texts,” he offers.

He glances over his shoulder to see Kurt in the middle of a scene, shirtless. “I think I can manage that,” he tells Artie. Suddenly, Kurt’s eyes meet his own and Blaine feels his pulse quicken. Kurt’s still _on camera_ and he actually met Blaine’s eyes while in the middle of filming. When they see this movie in the theater, when they’re at the premiere and Blaine catches that moment on film, the moment where Kurt Hummel’s character looks briefly off-screen, Blaine knows he’ll feel his heart rate pick up.

It’s a moment just for them, no one else allowed, and it might not seem significant for some people but Blaine knows that for Kurt, it’s huge.

Blaine revels in it. He revels in _them._


	6. Jig Is Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one wherein Blaine is (was) Kurt's college professor.

**Jailbait (Jig is Up) :**

“A student,” Wes says, eyeing Blaine. “You’re sleeping with a student.”

“Oh my god,” Blaine says with wide eyes. “Keep your voice down. We’re in the middle of a coffee shop and if I end up on some Dateline special, I’m blaming you.”

“A student, though,” Wes repeats, not lowering his voice _at all_. “Tell me you’re not serious.”

“Okay, first? He’s not a student. He _was_ a student. Second, he’s in his mid-twenties, so seriously, you have no idea how mad I’m going to be if some Dateline sting operation shows up at my house.”

Wes gives him an unimpressed stare. But Wes always looks unimpressed, so.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asks eventually.

“Because you’re one of my oldest, closest friends,” Blaine answers. “I want you to — just, support me.”

“Fine, fine,” Wes says, waving his hand vaguely. “I support you.”

“Really?” he asks hopefully.

Wes sighs. “Sure. It’s not like I didn’t see this coming anyway.”

Blaine gives him an offended look. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means it was a matter of time before one of the many students that hurl themselves at you shamelessly each semester managed to get under your skin.”

Blaine narrows his eyes and says, “I’m not sure what you’re implying but I’m choosing to be insulted.”

“I don’t care,” Wes responds, taking a sip of his coffee.

When they meet a few weeks later, it’s a total success. Kurt even manages to make Wes laugh _. Twice_.

“I like him,” he says while Kurt helps Wes’ wife clear off the table. “I can see the allure.”

Blaine gives him a bright smile. “Really? You’re not judging me?”

Wes scoffs. “Of course I’m judging you. But that doesn’t change the fact that I like him and he seems to make you happy.”

“He does,” Blaine says softly. He probably has a weird moony expression but he doesn’t even care.

Wes is quiet. “Is this serious? He only just graduated. Do you see this as long-term? Does _he_?”

“I do,” Blaine answers. “And I think — I think he does, too, yes.”

“So what does it matter?” Wes asks, confused. “If he makes you happy and you’re serious about it and there’s no reason for Dateline to get involved, why does anyone’s opinion matter?”

When Kurt sits next to him on the couch a little later and presses his side up against Blaine’s, he realizes that it _doesn’t_.

:

Which is a total lie, he figures out an hour before meeting Kurt’s dad. _Of course_ opinions matter.

“It’s fine,” Kurt says nervously as they pull into the driveway. “It’s fine. Everything will be fine. Fine, fine.”

Blaine starts to panic at Kurt’s tone. “You’re not helping, Kurt,” he says. “I’m already stressing out about this and now you’re making it worse.”

“Sorry,” Kurt says quietly. “Okay, let’s do this. Let’s just get it over with.”

The walk to the front door is slow and torturous and he almost turns back three times.

It goes fine, though, just as Kurt tried to convince them of earlier. They have a relaxing dinner with Kurt’s dad and step-mom with a steady stream of conversation. Kurt tells them they met _at school_ and no one pushes it or asks anything else more specific so Blaine lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

Burt and Blaine watch some college football later and it’s almost startling how easy it is to talk to him, how fun it is even though they’re rooting for opposing teams. He catches Kurt’s eye a couple of times and they both smile, relieved and relaxed.

It’s not until they’re putting their jackets on to head out that Burt says, “So what grade did Kurt get in your class?”

Blaine freezes. “I — what?”

“Unless it’s a coincidence that last year at Christmas it was _Professor Anderson this_ and _Doctor Anderson that_ and now he shows up with a boyfriend he met ‘at school’. One that happens to be a professor.”

“Dad—” Kurt says. “It’s not like that—”

Burt gives him an unimpressed look. “Try it, kid. Try and lie your way out of this one.”

“We didn’t — nothing —” Blaine stammers.

Kurt lets out an exasperated sigh. “What’s the big deal? He’s not my teacher anymore. Nothing illegal is going on. I don’t see why everyone is trying to make this into an after-school Lifetime Original movie.”

“No big deal, huh?” Burt says. “Is that why you didn’t say anything about it all night?”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine apologizes. “You’re right, we—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Burt says. “Kurt’s a big kid now, free to make his own choices and decisions.”

Kurt gives his dad a small smile. “He’s the right decision, Dad.”

Burt doesn’t say anything else, just pulls Kurt in for a hug. “Drive safe out there. The traffic’s bad on the highway.”

“A ‘B’, by the way,” Kurt tells him. “He gave me a ‘B’. How embarrassing is that? I date a teacher and can’t even land an ‘A’ in the class.”

Blaine feels his face warm up because hello, _worst conversation ever_ to have with his boyfriend’s dad.

Burt nods. “Good. It means he’s not a pushover. You,” he says, pointing to Kurt, “are too used to dating guys that give you what you want.”

Kurt rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue.

“Don’t be a pushover,” he tells Blaine as he shakes his hand.

Blaine sees Kurt’s coy smile out of the corner of his eye and sighs. “I’ll try my best. I make no promises.”

It seems like the right thing to say, though, because Burt huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “It takes practice. Trust me, I know.”

They head back to the car and Kurt says, “See, that went well.”

“It did,” he agrees. “The awkward part is over.”

:

Or not, Blaine figures out a few weeks later when they’re having dinner, just the two of them.

He’s reading his fortune cookie when he feels someone slide into the booth and press up close. Blaine looks over to see Sebastian giving him the same disturbing leer he gave him almost every class last semester.

“Can I help you?” Blaine asks, annoyed.

“Just thought I’d say hello to my favorite professor,” he says with a smarmy grin.

“Go away,” Kurt grits out from across the table. The irritation rolls off of him in _waves_.

“Oh,” Sebastian says, face shifting into disdain. “It’s you.”

“Yes, it’s _me_ ,” Kurt bites back. “And I’m trying to keep my food down, so if you don’t mind…”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I’ll see you after summer break, Dr. Anderson,” he says before sliding back out.

Blaine stares after him. “He’s going to tell the Dean.”

Kurt tilts his head and carefully says, “Is that a bad thing?”

And who _cares_ , Blaine thinks. They’re happy, they’re not doing anything to be ashamed of, who _cares_ about the details?

“No,” he replies, giving Kurt a smile. “Not at all.”

“Good,” Kurt says, going back to his plate of Szechuan chicken. “In ten years, no one’s going to care anyway. By then, people will call it romantic.”

_Ten years_ , Blaine hears.

Yeah, they’re long-term.


	7. Kiss and Make Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one wherein Blaine is in the mob and Kurt is his lounge singer.

**Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (Kiss and Make Up) :**

Bodyguards, Blaine realizes. Bodyguards are the key.

Kurt walks into Blaine’s office two days later flanked by two of Blaine’s most reliable and trusted men. He looks annoyed.

“No,” he tells Blaine. “I’m not being escorted around the city with two _bodyguards.”_

Blaine glances up briefly then looks back down to the work in front of him. “Yes,” he says back, “you are.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’m _fine_ , Blaine. I’ll be fine.”

“You will,” he agrees. “Because you’ll be escorted around the city with two bodyguards.”

Kurt’s silent for a moment. “You can’t be serious.”

Blaine looks up again to meet Kurt’s eyes and to show him exactly how serious he is. “You have no idea how serious I am,” he says simply.

He sighs again and takes a few steps closer to Blaine’s desk. “I understand that you’re a little … tense. I do, Blaine, but this is excessive. Let’s just — we can talk about it—”

“No,” he says, cutting him off.

The room turns silent.

“No,” Kurt echoes, looking like he doesn’t quite understand the word, like he’s confused as to why Blaine would say such a thing to him — probably because he never _has_.

Blaine excuses his men until it’s just the two of them in the office. Kurt stares at him, quiet.

“I’m the son of a mob boss,” he tells Kurt.

He gives Blaine an incredulous look. “I’m aware.”

“I have people that report to me. I have responsibilities and power and respect.”

He sighs. “I know, Blaine.”

“So please,” Blaine says quietly, “please let me make a decision about this relationship. Just one.”

Kurt hesitates. “Does it have to be _this_ decision?”

“Yes.”

Kurt sighs again. “Fine, but just this once.”

:

Kurt’s cooperation lasts for a week.

To be fair, it’s about five days longer than Blaine thought it would last.

And anyways, Blaine is prepared.

:

“You have people _following_ me?” Kurt says, eyes narrowed as he walks into Blaine’s office.

Everyone startles and looks towards the door. Kurt always knows how to make an entrance.

“Give us a minute,” Blaine tells the room, eyes fixed on Kurt. They all filter out and when they’re alone, Blaine gives him an overly bright smile and says, “Now, what were you saying, sweetheart?”

“Don’t _sweetheart_ me,” Kurt says. “You have people _following_ me, Blaine. That is so not okay.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t have to send people after you if I thought for a minute you wouldn’t ditch the bodyguards you _promised_ me you’d stick with.”

Kurt lets out an irritated groan. “Blaine, you can’t just keep tabs on me all day!”

“Of course I can,” he argues, careful not to raise his voice to match Kurt’s.

“You _can’t_ , though!” he says. “You don’t need to know where I am every single moment of every day!”

Blaine falters and feels his heart stutter. “You don’t _want_ me to know,” he realizes. “That’s what this is about.”

Kurt sighs. “No, it’s not, Blaine.”

Blaine’s quiet and he drops his gaze to his desk, tries to focus on the piles of paper instead of the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Blaine, it’s _not_ ,” he repeats.

“Okay,” he says finally, looking up with a forced smile. “Surveillance detail gone, I promise.”

Kurt eyes him warily. “Really?”

“Really,” Blaine says, kicking up the fake smile a bit. “And no more bodyguards.”

He looks even more unsure. “Okay.” They watch each other for a few minutes before Kurt comes around the desk to give him a kiss on the cheek. He tilts Blaine’s chin up and gives him a small smile. “I love you, you know,” he says quietly.

Blaine just nods and keeps his smile in place.

He watches Kurt leave his office and for some reason, the door closing behind him sounds so final.

:

“The lounge is hiring a new singer?” Kurt grits out two days later, barging into Blaine’s office in the middle of a meeting.

Everyone looks over towards the door again and Blaine hears one of the new guys quietly say, “Does he do that everyday, or…?”

The room clears before Blaine even has to say a word.

“You’re hiring a _singer_?” Kurt repeats, sounding both skeptical and insulted.

Blaine keeps his face neutral. “Should we be?”

“What? No!” he answers. “Are you — are you _firing_ me?”

“No,” he says quietly. “That stage is yours for as long as you want to be on it.”

Kurt deflates a bit. “Oh. Well, that’s … okay, good.”

“Okay, good,” he echoes, eyes on Kurt’s.

He gives Blaine a soft smile. “See you tonight?” he asks hopefully before he turns to leave.

“Of course,” Blaine promises.

:

When Kurt’s set ends, Blaine doesn’t even notice until he feels Kurt slide into the back booth next to him.

“Hey, handsome,” he says softly.

Blaine looks up from his work and smiles. “Hey, you.”

Kurt hesitates. “You’re unhappy.”

“What?” he frowns. “No, I’m—”

“You’re unhappy with _me_.”

Blaine shakes his head. “No. I’m in love with you, Kurt. You know that.”

“But you think I’m not in love with _you_ just because I don’t like walking around with two three-hundred-pound bookends.”

“Kurt—”

“ _Fine_ ,” he says with a dramatic sigh. “We can do the bodyguards, if that’s what you need. But no surveillance detail, Blaine. I draw the line there.”

Blaine starts to smile and it’s the first real one he’s had in ages. “You mean it?”

“Sure, why not, I guess,” Kurt says with an eye roll and a vague wave of his hand, looking incredibly put-upon. “If you need it that much then — just, fine.”

Blaine tilts his head and smiles so hard his face almost hurts. “I love you,” he says.

“I know,” Kurt tells him. “And what you said the other day — about the stage.”

“It’s yours,” Blaine says.

Kurt’s quiet for a moment. “Just so you know — your bed, your _life…_ I’m there for as long as you want me there.”

Blaine hums. “Is that so?”

“You know it is,” Kurt says in a voice so quiet and so sincere that Blaine’s breath catches.

He leans in and gives Kurt a slow, deep kiss. “Well, my life, indefinitely. My bed, say, ten minutes?”

Kurt huffs out a laugh. “Sure thing, handsome.”

:

Blaine waits until Kurt’s out of sight and hopefully halfway home to their bed before waving a few of his men over to the back booth

“Okay, he’s agreed to you two again,” he says to Kurt’s former bodyguards. “So that’s a go.”

“And surveillance detail?” one of the other guys asks.

He shakes his head. “No, he still won’t sign on for that.”

“Oh,” the guy says, taken back. “So you want us to stop?”

“What?” Blaine scoffs. “Of course not. Not while the Russians are still so fixated on us. But he can’t ever know you’re there, got it?”

“Got it,” they all say in unison.

:

Yeah, yeah, so he’s a liar. But if lying to Kurt is what keeps Kurt safe, so be it.

Plus, hello, he’s in _the mob_.  


	8. Numbers Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one wherein Blaine is an accountant and Kurt works in I.T.

**Nerds Do I.T. Better (Numbers Game) :**

On the first day of December, the HR department sends an email about the holiday party in two weeks. Blaine immediately hits reply and cheerfully submits an RSVP for just himself, no Plus One necessary. He’s already got a date, someone sitting in the basement of the building probably reading the very same email.

Two weeks later, though, on the Friday before the party, HR sends a reminder email to everyone with the suggested attire, the menu, seating arrangements and a _See You Tomorrow Nite!_ in bright red 100 point Comic Sans —

Blaine deletes it with narrowed eyes and an angry click of the mouse.

:

His phone rings around nine a.m. He rolls his eyes when he sees the name on the caller ID. “Blaine Anderson, Accounting,” he says with a forced smile.

The line is quiet for a moment. “Oh, for — fine, be like that. Hello, Blaine Anderson in Accounting. This is Kurt Hummel down in I.T.”

“Hello, Kurt Hummel,” Blaine says pleasantly. “How can I help you this morning?”

“Stop,” Kurt hisses. “Stop acting like that.”

“Like what?” he asks. He knows he’s being petty but he doesn’t actually care.

“Like you’re just an accountant and I’m just an I.T. rep and we don’t know each other,” Kurt grits out.

Blaine glares at his poor, blameless computer monitor, smile fading. “We _don’t_ know each other,” Blaine argues. “We’ve been dating over three weeks and I’m still not allowed to call you my boyfriend—”

“I never said that!”

“—to anyone we work with!”

The line is quiet. “What’s wrong with taking it slow?”

Blaine’s mouth falls open. “Twenty five days, Kurt! That’s how long we’ve been dating. You think it’s _too soon_ for us just to mention it to someone?”

He sighs. “We can talk about it later.”

Blaine’s not really in the mood to argue anymore, not at nine in the morning on a Friday just twelve hours after having their very first fight. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Kurt says, surprised. “We’re not eating lunch?”

“I think I’m just going to grab some fast food or something,” he says.

“Fine,” Kurt says sharply. “Great.”

“ _Great_ ,” Blaine bites back. “ _Fine_.”

He thinks they maybe both hang up at the same time.

:

When he gets dressed for the party the next evening, he eyes the Christmas Tree cardigan hanging in his closet. The one Kurt saw and said _Blaine, no, absolutely not, not happening, don’t even think about it._

Blaine narrows his eyes and whispers, “Oh, I’m thinking about it alright.”

He gives himself a once-over in the mirror before leaving wearing the cardigan, a neon green bowtie Kurt vetoed, and dark red boat shoes Kurt frowned at.

“In your face, Kurt Hummel,” Blaine says to the mirror. “I’m going to have so much fun tonight, you don’t even _know_.”

:

He doesn’t have much fun.

He hangs out with the accountants for awhile, Kurt nowhere to be found. Blaine knows the number one rule at these office holiday parties is _don’t get loaded and make terrible decisions_ so he purposely doesn’t drown his sorrows at the open bar.

He talks to a few people in Marketing.

He says hello to the girls in Customer Service.

He has a brief conversation with the guys in Finance.

Blaine doesn’t have that much fun.

:

He’s on beer number two an hour later when Kurt shows up. Even though he’s mad at Kurt, Blaine can’t stop himself from lighting up when he walks through the front door.

Kurt smiles at him from across the room but his mouth falls open when he sees what Blaine’s wearing.

Oh yeah, he sort of forgot about the spiteful Christmas Tree sweater thing.

Kurt gets pulled into conversation with the people at the door and Blaine heads back over to his accountants.

:

Kurt finally comes up to him a half hour later.

“Hello,” Kurt says politely.

Blaine looks over to say hello back but Kurt’s not looking at him; he’s looking at the guy from Payroll that Blaine’s talking to, the one that’s got a hand on Blaine’s arm — huh, when did that happen?

“Hello,” Payroll says back with an equally cool smile.

They stare at each other.

“I’m Kurt,” he tells Payroll. “Blaine’s boyfriend.”

Blaine’s eyes widen and he whips around to meet Kurt’s eyes

“Oh,” the guy says. “Don’t you work in I.T.?”

“Yes,” he answers. “And I’m also Blaine’s boyfriend.”

Blaine stares at him. “Seriously?”

Kurt suddenly looks uncharacteristically shy and unsure. “I mean, you want to, right?”

He can’t stop smiling and instead of answering, he pulls Kurt in for a very-public, very-dirty kiss.

:

They find an empty, darkened office and the very-dirty kissing turns into very-dirty groping.

“I was so wrong about that cardigan, Blaine,” Kurt says, breathless. “You look unnaturally hot right now.”

Blaine feels his ears turn pink at the blatant ogling. “And I was wrong about this tie. It’s pretty bad.”

Kurt doesn’t argue.

Blaine tries to resume the very-dirty groping but stops at Kurt’s hesitant look.

“No?”

“It’s just — you already broke two of the three cardinal rules of seasonal office parties, Blaine. You don’t wear holiday themed sweaters,” he starts, counting on his fingers, “you don’t drink at an open bar, and you don’t have semi-public office sex.”

Blaine gives him a pained look. “I hate fractions. Two-thirds isn’t even a _good_ fraction. It’s got that repeating six crap.”

“Hm,” Kurt says, thoughtfully. “That’s true.”

“So we probably _should_ have semi-public office sex,” Blaine tries, hopeful. “For the sake of an accountant.”

Kurt watches him carefully and thinks about it.

:

(It works. Talking about non-integers actually _works.)_


	9. Paper & String

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one wherein Blaine is a doctor.

**Paging Doctor Anderson (Paper & String) :**

It’s not like Kurt ever forgets he’s dating a doctor. He’s reminded of it all the time, anytime he gets beautifully arranged bouquets of expensive flowers after an opening night performance or whenever Blaine takes him to a restaurant and buys a bottle of wine that probably costs more than what Kurt makes in a week.

He doesn’t ever forget it per se but sometimes it’s more like he remembers it all over again. When Blaine comes home some nights, quieter than normal and maybe a little sad, Kurt remembers, _Oh I’m dating a doctor_. One that still takes it a little hard when he loses someone in the ER or has to give bad news to a parent or a child or a wife.

Blaine thinks Kurt loves the perks that come along with dating a rich doctor (and okay, yeah, naturally) but it’s not actually about that for him. Kurt mostly just loves being in love with a _doctor_.

:

Blaine gives him a watch for his birthday one year, one that Kurt’s been eying for weeks but only in private so that Blaine couldn’t catch him and decide to buy it. Kurt already has two watches. He probably doesn’t need a third.

“Blaine,” he laughs as he opens it. “How did you—”

“You aren’t as stealthy as you think,” Blaine teases. “Try it on.”

Kurt pulls it out and a small, folded paper falls out. He opens to see it a crayon drawing of — actually, he’s not sure of what. He holds it up to Blaine quizzically.

“Oh, Mary must have put that in there,” he says with a fond eye roll. “Here, I’ll take it.”

“Mary?” he asks, holding on the paper.

“She was there when I was wrapping this. She must have slipped it in the bottom of the box when I wasn’t looking.”

“Oh,” Kurt says. He pauses. “What _is_ it?”

Blaine pulls his chair a little closer. “That’s me,” he says, pointing to a pink thing with black lines on top. Then he points to a yellow thing with brown swirls on top. “And that’s you.”

Kurt cocks his head. “Striking resemblance.”

Blaine smiles. “She’s seven. She doesn’t talk but she loves art therapy. She’s been in and out of the ER so sometimes I go up on my lunch break and see her after she’s been admitted. We draw.”

Kurt’s quiet and holds on to the paper a little tighter.

“And would you believe that hers are drastically better than mine? _Drastically,_ ” Blaine says. His voice is light and casual like he doesn’t think spending his free time drawing pictures with a little girl in the Pediatric ward is a big deal at all. Because he _doesn’t._ Because he’s a doctor and he’s _Blaine_ and he just doesn’t think that way.

Kurt slips the paper into his pocket.

:

On their anniversary, they don’t do the typical _'let's get dressed up in fancy clothes and go eat an expensive meal at an expensive restaurant'_ type of thing. Instead they do something called _'let's get naked and have sex for like six straight hours and call for pizza'_.

They exchange gifts in bed over the pizza box (and ugh, Kurt can’t believe he let Blaine talk him into eating this on top of their five hundred dollar comforter from Neiman Marcus) and Blaine once again breaks their price limit rule with spa weekend passes for the two of them.

(Kurt buys Blaine a bowtie he found online after four days of extensive research. It has metallic snowflakes and Blaine lights up like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. He insists on wearing it immediately even though he’s totally naked.)

There’s a ribbon on top of the envelope Blaine hands him with the spa passes. It’s tied in a lopsided bow, one end twice as long as the other. He sees Kurt staring at it.

“Lucy did that,” Blaine explains with a proud look. “Remember her? The girl in the car accident last year.”

Kurt doesn’t say anything and keeps his eyes on the bow.

“She comes in for rehab twice a week for her motor control. I told her it was our anniversary and she was determined to make a bow for us. Well, for you.”

Kurt looks up and meets Blaine’s eyes and he’s hit with it all over again. He loves a _doctor_. He loves someone that’s _good,_ someone genuine, someone that Kurt needs almost as much as the world does.

:

There’s a tag on each of Kurt’s Christmas presents that year, each one about the size of a dollar bill. Some painted in watercolors, some decorated with elbow macaroni, some with colored pencils and crayons, some plastered in stickers, but all with a black Sharpied _KURT_ somewhere in the corner.

Kurt stares down at them on Christmas morning. “What—”

“Sorry, sorry, they insisted,” Blaine says, holding up his phone to take a photo of the presents. “I have to take a picture so that they believe me.”

“So that _who—”_

“These are from those ladies down in the nursing home; Tina and I showed up to their arts and crafts hour last week. Well, Henry made a tag, too, I guess. I shouldn’t forget him, poor guy’s the only one in that class, barely even gets a word in edgewise when all those women start talking.”

Blaine sits on the floor and pulls Kurt into his lap. He gives Kurt an embarrassed look and says, “I know, I know, it’s silly.”

“It’s _not_ silly,” Kurt argues. He leans in to give Blaine a forceful kiss.

Blaine pulls away after a few moments. “Okay,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll tell everyone you liked them then.”

A month later, Kurt can’t really remember what presents he got but he remembers each gift tag.

:

Blaine’s got front row seats to the opening night of Kurt’s next show, which isn’t anything out of the ordinary, but he actually sneaks backstage after the final curtain, which _is_. Kurt’s flustered when he lets Blaine in the room because it’s _his_ dressing room and he’s not used to anyone being in it.

“You looked so good up on that stage,” Blaine says with a gravelly voice as he grabs Kurt’s hips and presses him against the closed door. “I didn’t want to wait.”

Kurt halfheartedly tries to push him off. “I’m still in costume,” he laughs. “I can’t get this dirty.”

But Blaine ignores him and starts leaving a trail of kisses up his neck, along his jaw.

“Blaine,” Kurt says in a breathy voice but before he can continue, there’s suddenly a loud knock on the door to ruin the moment. He startles at the noise and jumps away while Blaine rests his forehead against the wood and groans in frustration.

Kurt hurries to get out of his costume because he’s tired and he’s covered in makeup and he just wants to shower and apparently Blaine has some other plans in mind, too—

“Oh, you got my flowers,” Blaine says, pleased.

“I get your flowers every performance,” Kurt tells him with a teasing lilt. “And everyone gets jealous, Blaine, you should see their faces.”

He rolls his eyes and grins. “That’s not the point of the flowers, you know.”

“I know but I like to brag about my boyfriend,” Kurt explains. “He’s a doctor.”

Blaine’s still smiling brightly but it fades when he sees what’s hanging on the mirror _behind_ the flowers.

“Oh,” Kurt says, awkwardly. “Those.”

There’s a picture hanging there, hand-drawn by a little girl in the Pediatric ward. It’s right next to a small red bow tied by a woman recovering from an auto accident and a handful of small drawings made by some senior citizens in an arts and craft class.

Blaine meets his eyes, confused.

“I like to brag about my boyfriend,” Kurt says quietly. “He changes lives.”


	10. Quibbles & Snits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one wherein Kurt is a Ravenclaw and Blaine is a Hufflepuff.

**Quidditch (Quibbles and Snits) :**

During their seventh year, tensions run a little high before their holiday break. People are antsy to graduate; seven years in one school with the same people is long enough. They’re ready to get out into the world, see places, meet people, accomplish things. Having to wake up each morning and go to Transfiguration seems so tedious now.

Friends fight with each other, houses turn on themselves. And Kurt Hummel, he’s the crux of it.

:

Santana, for example. She’s kind of a — well, Blaine doesn’t like to call people names, not even a girl like Santana who has a few rather creative names she likes to use on Blaine and his boyfriend.

She can be sweet and vulnerable sometimes but if you don’t look long enough or hard enough, it’s easy to miss. She’s friends with a girl in Blaine’s house, actually, Dani something-or-other. They seem like an odd pair of friends because he’s not sure how much they could possibly have in common but hey, he’s friends with Sam and the two of them don’t have much in common either.

Blaine likes Dani even though he doesn’t know much about her. He helps her pick up her scrolls and quills when an obnoxious fifth year intentionally knocks them all out of her hands in the hallway. He walks down to their Herbology class with her so that she doesn’t have to walk alone. Sometimes she seems lonely.

Santana watches them with a look that Blaine doesn’t really understand. It’s more considering than calculating and it almost makes Blaine want to start a conversation with her, to see if maybe they could be friends. Then she’ll inevitably say something mean about his hair and Blaine thinks, _Well, there goes that idea._

One Saturday, Blaine meets Kurt by the front door before their weekly trip to Hogsmeade. He’s surprised to see Kurt looking disheveled and a little flustered with an angry expression.

“Kurt?” he asks with wide eyes. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Kurt takes a deep breath and his look softens into something more like annoyance than anger. “Fine,” he says eventually. “It’s just — Sebastian — never mind, he’s not even worth discussing.”

Something prickles inside of Blaine. “Sebastian what? What did he do?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s not worth it. _He’s_ not worth it.”

“Tell me,” Blaine insists, hands clenching by his side.

Kurt turns to give him a crooked smile. “It doesn’t matter anymore —”

“It _does_ matter—”

“—and it’s already been taken care of.”

Blaine pauses. “Meaning?

Kurt pulls one of Blaine’s hands towards him, uncurling the fist so that he can tangle Blaine’s fingers with his own. “Meaning, I know you want to — I don’t know — _defend my honor_ or something but you don’t need to.”

He won’t say anything else on it. Before they leave the school grounds, though, Blaine catches a glimpse of Sebastian trailing behind a few of their professors, gesturing wildly but mute. He’s been jinxed, Blaine assumes. It’s a silencing spell he’s seen Santana working on —

“Do you mind if I walk with you two today?” Dani asks. “Santana managed to earn herself a last minute Saturday detention.”

Blaine blinks as he connects the dots.

Sometimes, if you look hard enough, she can be kind of sweet.

:

Artie’s a little more civilized about it but only because his way involves a little less bodily harm. It still involves turning on someone in his own house but according to Kurt, that’s kind of a thing Ravenclaws do when they want to win.

And it’s kind of a thing _Rachel_ does, apparently. Blaine can never quite tell if Rachel and Kurt are friends or not but during their seventh year when Rachel seems to be extra intense and taking sabotage to a new level, Blaine thinks it’s more in the _or not_ category.

No one really gets under Kurt’s skin quite the way Rachel does. Blaine feels helpless sometimes as he watches Kurt lose things to her on a regular basis. He watches Kurt deflate every time Rachel takes something away from him: solos in their house choir, scholarships, leadership on their house council. Blaine doesn’t understand how one tiny girl could take so much from someone who’s only asking for a tiny piece.

Over dinner one night, Kurt suddenly slides into the seat next to Blaine at the Hufflepuff table. He startles because he thought Kurt was bailing on dinner to work on some project for his Potions class. “Hey,” Blaine says. “I thought you had that thing to design?”

Kurt’s smiling so brightly that Blaine’s momentarily distracted by it. “I’m done. And Rachel has to start _all over_.”

Blaine raises his eyebrows. “Really? Wow.”

“Something happened to her sequencing or her ingredients, I’m not sure. I only know that whatever she created keeps coming out wrong so now she has to re-design the whole thing!”

Blaine kinds of wants to feel bad that they’re relishing Rachel’s misfortune but he immediately remembers every time she rubbed her success into Kurt’s face and he suddenly doesn’t feel bad at all.

He gives Blaine a quick kiss on the cheek before sliding back off the bench to sit with his own house for the rest of the meal. Blaine stares after him with a happy smile and watches him slide into the only empty seat next to Artie. They don’t talk when Kurt sits down; Blaine’s pretty sure they’re not like, super close or anything. He surprised, then, when Artie turns to give Blaine a _hey bro_ head nod when Kurt’s not looking.

He’s not really sure what to make of it until the end of the week when he finds a small scroll sitting on his bed, eloquently and helpfully labeled _Smacking Down Like The Hand Of God._ It’s got a handful of pretty harsh (yet ultimately harmless) spells including one on how to bewitch a scroll to rearrange any text written on it.

It’s all in Artie’s handwriting.

:

Finn’s problem-solving skills couldn’t be considered civilized _at all_.

Kurt’s trying to sew his torn dress robes, angrily swearing under his breath and muttering indiscernible insults about Puck. Blaine only listens to it for a few moments before heading off to the Gryffindor house to respectfully-yet-passionately give Puck a piece of his mind.

When he gets to their common room, he’s moments too late because he catches Finn gritting something out about brothers before punching Puck square in the mouth.

Blaine stares at the scene, wide-eyed.

Finn turns to face him, suddenly aware that there’s someone else in the room. “Blaine?”

“Oh,” he says. “You — beat me to the punch.”

He gives Blaine a quizzical look. “You were going to punch him, too?”

“Well, no,” Blaine says with an eye roll. “Not _literally_ —”

But then Puck’s springing off the ground and launching himself at Finn, throwing a few punches of his own.

Blaine hurries from the room and lets Finn handle that one all on his own.

:

Hufflepuffs are, naturally, the most civilized and Mike Chang may be the most civilized of them all.

In August, Chandler draws Kurt’s name during the first week of their Arithmancy class, the only course Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws take at the same time. Blaine’s marginally disappointed but whatever, it only means the two of them are partners for a month.

In September, Chandler draws Kurt’s name again. Blaine’s marginally annoyed.

In October, Chandler draws Kurt’s name. Blaine’s marginally skeptical.

In November, Chandler draws Kurt’s name. Blaine’s moderately suspicious.

In December, Mike Chang manages to be the first one in line to draw partners. He says something under his breath as he reaches for a slip of paper in the hat — something that sounds suspiciously like _Accio_ — before pulling out Kurt’s name. He holds it up triumphantly to Blaine and grins.

He smiles back, relieved.

:

Blaine wonders if maybe he’s the crux of it, too.


	11. Risky Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one wherein Blaine is an accidental delinquent.

**Rebel Rebel (Risky Business) :**

Burt Hummel likes to think that he’s a pretty decent dad, at least most of the time. He did what he could without knowing what the hell he was doing and he thinks he did an okay job of it. Parenting is tough: setting boundaries, enforcing bedtimes, making sure your kid eats enough green vegetables. Those first eight years were hard because he and his wife, just like every other first-time parents out there, had no idea how to raise a kid. And the years after _that_ , those were hard because he was going it alone.

But he still thinks he did an okay job of it.

And Kurt, he’s a pretty decent kid, Burt knows that. He’s on the honor roll. He’s a cheerleader. He respects curfew and he’s got a good work ethic. Sure, he acts like an entitled teenager sometimes but what kid doesn’t? Burt’s proud of him and he knows his son is going places.

So when his son starts dating Blaine Anderson, all Burt can think is _Where the hell did I go wrong?_

The infamous kid that blew up the middle school bathroom — _two_ bathrooms, actually — is dating his son.

:

“He didn’t blow it up,” Kurt says every time Burt mentions it. “It flooded.”

“They,” Burt says pointedly as he pokes at his chicken. “ _They_ flooded. Plural. He vandalized more than one bathroom.”

“Fine, whatever, but he didn’t blow it up,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes.

:

Kurt gives him a waiver to sign halfway through the school year. It’s from the administration office, a waiver that parents now have to sign accepting financial liability if their child is responsible for the destruction of a classroom.

Burt had to sign one of these a few years back, too, right after the middle school bathroom incident.

“A classroom?” he asks. “Something in particular happen?”

“Hm?” Kurt asks, pretending to be engrossed with stirring the pot of pasta sauce on the stove.

Burt’s been a parent for awhile now, and _Kurt’s specifically_ ; he knows when his son’s trying to be evasive.

“What’s this about?” Burt asks him. “Tell me why I’m signing this form.”

Kurt sighs. “It’s _nothing,_ Dad. There was an accident in the Chemistry lab and some things… melted. Everything’s fine, though; every _one_ is fine.”

 _Where the hell did I go wrong?_ Burt thinks for like the tenth time that week. “What did he do?”

Kurt shoots him an annoyed look over his shoulder. “What did _who_ do?”

“Come on, Kurt, I’m not stupid. What did Blaine do?”

Kurt lets out a disgusted noise. “Why do you always assume he did something? Why do you just automatically think everything is his fault?”

Burt’s not falling for the whole _incensed and indignant_ act Kurt’s got going on; he wised up to that years ago. “Uh, because I’m betting this was his fault.”

He’s quiet for a few long moments before answering. “Okay, fine, it was his fault. But it was an accident and he’s got after school detention for the rest of the month so we can all just move on from it now.”

:

Over Christmas break, Kurt walks into the living room looking hesitant but determined. “Dad,” he starts —

And then he says what every parent longs to hear:

“—Can I borrow fifteen hundred dollars to bail my boyfriend out of jail?”

Burt feels a headache coming on.

“Hold on, let me turn the game off,” he says, shutting off the TV, “because it almost sounded like you said your boyfriend is in jail.”

Kurt squares his shoulders. “I did say that.”

“Why?” Burt asks.

“It’s just for tonight. We — _he_ can pay you back but he can’t make a withdraw that big without his parents present and they’re both visiting his brother until tomorrow—”

“No, not _why_ does he need my help. I want to know why he’s _in jail._ ”

Kurt clenches his jaw and there’s obviously something else he’s not saying. “Because he’s an idealistic idiot that’s content with throwing his future away just to protect a friend.”

Burt frowns because that wasn’t exactly what he expected. He assumed it would be more of Kurt’s standard _he was at the wrong place at the wrong time_ arguments.

Against his better judgment and all logic, Burt drives to the station to bail his son’s boyfriend out of jail and thinks over and and over, _Where the hell did I go wrong_?

:

Kurt and Blaine start arguing immediately as they get into the backseat of Burt’s SUV and it’s too heated and fast-paced for him to follow along. The closest he can come up with is that someone broke into a store downtown, the one that sells baby clothes and diapers and bottles and a ton of other stuff that someone like Blaine most definitely has no use for. The two of them argue about who did it and why and what the next step is and how this will affect Blaine’s future.

Burt does two things on his way home: One, he starts wondering about Kurt’s _wrong place, wrong time_ arguments and if they might actually be true after all. And two, he watches Blaine carefully. Kurt hurls bitter words and accusations during their argument, voice loud and angry. Blaine holds his ground but never attacks. He lets Kurt say what he needs to say and then defends himself. He doesn’t insult Kurt, doesn’t hurl any ugly words back.

It gives him things to think about while he’s lying in bed that night.

:

“What do you know about that Anderson kid?” Burt asks one of the kids that works in his garage.

“Blaine?” he says with a laugh. “Dude’s scary.”

Burt doesn’t say anything for a bit as he finishes changing the oil. “You ever see him around with Kurt?”

“Of course,” the kid says. “All the time.”

Burt wipes his hands on his coveralls. “Watch out for him, will you?”

His jaw drops slightly. “Watch out for _Kurt?_ ” He stands up straight and eyes Burt from across the hood. “You got the wrong idea, Mr. H. When it comes to Kurt, you don’t need to protect him from Blaine. You need to protect everyone _else_ from Blaine.”

“And what’s that mean?” Burt asks.

“Dude, seriously? He already got two kids expelled for Kurt, ones that used to call him names or whatever. And rumor is that he stripped that guy’s Jeep _bare_ last year, that guy that Kurt used to date.”

The kid has a few more stories to tell him, too. Gives Burt more things to think about.

:

Burt’s friend runs the funeral home downtown. It’s right across the street from the baby store. They have outdoor security cameras.

He hands the video to Kurt the next night.

“Security footage of that break-in,” he explains. “Show this to whoever you need to show it to to get the charges dropped.”

Kurt practically jumps off the bed towards his dad before giving him a tight hug. “Oh god, thank you so much, Dad.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t watch it, you know. The footage.”

Kurt looks at him cautiously. “Okay?”

“If you tell me that’s he’s not on there, I believe you.”

:

His kid is a good kid but Burt thinks that the infamous kid that flooded two middle school bathrooms is probably a good kid, too.


	12. Scandals & Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one wherein they're both royalty.

**Star-Crossed & Starry-Eyed (Scandals & Secrets) :**

There are a lot of god-awful things that come with being royalty and in the public eye but the worst is dealing with the scandals.

God, the scandals.

And they’re never even _true_.

:

“You’re cheating on me with a maid,” Kurt says one morning as he comes into the dining room holding a paper.

Blaine doesn’t even look up from where he’s sitting at the table, already eating breakfast. “Oh? Sorry about that.”

“Apology accepted,” Kurt says as he sits at the other end of the table. “But try to keep your hands off of her in the future.”

Suddenly the words register with Blaine. “Wait, a _maid?”_ he asks. “Why do pretend scandals about me always involve _girls_? It’s insulting.”

Kurt cocks an eyebrow. “ _That’s_ what you’re choosing to be insulted about?”

Blaine shrugs. “This is like the fifth time I’ve cheated on you now. It stopped being insulting a few months ago.”

:

The next week, Blaine joins Kurt in their study by the fireplace and waves around another paper. “A married man,” he says. “Well done, you.”

Kurt looks up and frowns. “He’s married? Well, that’s just tacky.”

Blaine takes a seat next to him on the sofa. “At least he’s _male_. When you cheat on me, at least you get the more realistic stories.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I’m glad that you’re classifying the realism of these rumors.”

“He’s brunet with hazel eyes, according to this writer,” Blaine continues as he finishes reading. “At least you have a type.”

:

“You’re leaving me?” Blaine asks with an exaggerated frown as he climbs into their bed later that night. “I have to say, I’m a little disappointed.”

Kurt hums and continues reading his book, barely listening.

“We haven’t even been married three years,” Blaine says. “I’m disappointed and _hurt._ ”

Kurt shakes his head and smiles to himself. “You get entirely too much amusement from these stories.”

“Amusement?” Blaine scoffs, pulling up the covers. “This is me bereft. The Prince of England is _leaving_ me.”

Kurt shakes his head again and turns a page.

Blaine carefully removes the book from Kurt’s hands and raises his eyebrows. “Maybe I could convince you to stay somehow?”

Kurt smiles again. “Oh? And what did you have in mind?”

“I have it on good authority that I’m _great_ in bed. Or so the last few maids have told the papers.”

It gets a laugh out of Kurt. “Well, I suppose I should do some research of my own in case a reporter comes to me for any information.”

They do a few hours of research.

:

“For my _brother_ ,” Blaine says the next afternoon after he finds Kurt in one of the outdoor gardens, holding a telegram. “You’re leaving me for my _brother._ ”

Instead of wrinkling his nose in distaste or making a comment on the tackiness of it all, Kurt considers Blaine’s words. “Well, he _is_ next in line for the throne. It would be politically advantageous of me.”

Blaine rolls his eyes and sits next to him on a bench. “ _Now_ who’s getting too much amusement?”

Kurt smiles to himself and rests his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “I like the Spanish prince I’m married to right now, if you must know.”

“Like?” Blaine teases.

“Love,” Kurt amends.

“I think he’ll be better to you than his older brother,” he adds. “In case you’re considering his merits.”

“I wasn’t,” Kurt says. “And I’m inclined to agree.”

Then they stop talking about Cooper and do a few more hours of research outside in the gardens.

:

Kurt walks into the library a month later, looking unsure. “Your mother tells me that she heard Cooper has a French illegitimate son.”

Blaine laughs but then immediately pauses and looks over his shoulder to meet Kurt’s eyes. “Wait, is that one true?”

Kurt shrugs, eyes wide. “I don’t know. I thought maybe _you_ would.”

“No,” Blaine tells him. “I genuinely have no idea.”

Kurt shakes his head then leaves Blaine there to contemplate the possibility of having an illegitimate nephew.

:

“False alarm,” he says to Blaine the next day. “Turns out it’s _your_ French illegitimate son.”

Blaine lets out a relieved sigh. “That’s good news.”

:

“My father’s getting married,” Kurt says aloud as he reads a letter from the King.

“Oh?” Blaine asks, looking up from the documents he’s reading in his office. “According to the papers or for real?”

“For real,” he says quietly, still reading. “I have a step-mother and a step-brother now.”

“Oh,” he repeats as he watches Kurt carefully, waiting to see how Kurt feels about the news before forming an opinion of his own.

“She’s a nurse and he’s a farmer,” he continues, finally looking over to Blaine. “They’re not even royalty.”

Blaine smiles. “That’s sweet,” he says. “He must really love her.”

Kurt nods but doesn’t say anything, expression worried. “I’m going to visit them,” he tells Blaine after a long silence. “Just to make sure that — just to meet them.”

“I’m sure she’s not using him,” Blaine says softly. “I’m sure she loves him back.”

Kurt nods again but doesn’t look convinced.

:

She loves him back. It’s easy to tell.

Blaine wants to give Kurt a teasing _I told you so_ but Kurt’s too busy having an awkward conversation with his new step-brother.

He sighs to himself and can just see the headlines now, bold print about tensions running high in the British royal family. Oh well, at least the papers will let up on the cheating scandals for awhile.

:

Except they don’t.

“Now you’re leaving me for _your_ brother,” Blaine sighs over breakfast. “You’ve been quite busy.”

Kurt wrinkles his nose in distaste and lets out a disgusted noise. “I feel dirty just knowing that.”

:

“The good news is that I’m begging for your forgiveness,” Kurt says as he joins Blaine on the bench in their most secluded garden. “The bad news is that you’re not forgiving me. And more than one paper is carrying that story so it must be true.”

Blaine smiles. “Of course it must be.”

“So,” Kurt starts, giving a coy smile, “Anything I could do to earn your forgiveness?”

He pretends to think it over. “I have a few ideas, yes.”

“More _research_?” Kurt asks, eyebrow arched and voice seductive.

“Lots more,” Blaine says quietly as he slides down from the bench to the grass, pulling Kurt along with him.

:

The garden is not as secluded as they think.

They find this out a few days later as they read an entire article about it. _Proper Princes Caught in Improper Positions — Outside!_

Blaine reads the article over Kurt’s shoulder. “They really go into detail about those improper positions, don’t they?” he asks, only mildly concerned about the fallout.

:

As predicted, they both receive telegrams from their family.

Cooper is disturbingly suggestive and congratulatory; the King of England is understandably disappointed.

Blaine’s dad is simple and direct: _At least you two stopped having extramarital affairs._

Kurt cocks his head. “That’s an interesting way of looking at it.”

Blaine thinks it over. “It is.”

The articles about cheating on each other and of their many lovers disappear for almost a year. When they slowly start to reappear, they _accidentally_ get caught being intimate at a peacekeeping summit in the Italian palace.

:

There are so many fantastic things about being royalty and always in the public eye. The _best_ is dealing with the scandals.


	13. Take Two, or Three, or Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one wherein they had a one-night-stand.

**Tequila Makes My Clothes Fall Off (Take Two, or Three, or Four) :**

They both agree that their first date should not be at a bar.

Kurt makes a reservation at a nice restaurant downtown but when they get there, the hostess admits there was some kind of mistake and they accidentally gave their table away. Their choices are to wait an hour and a half for the next opening, hit up the Burger King on the corner, or … sit at the bar.

In theory, maybe not so bad. They can both drink in moderation. Having just one drink won’t make the whole date a disaster.

No, what makes it a disaster is this: Blaine orders them both a drink, they smile at each other, Kurt opens his mouth to say something —

and then Blaine’s ex sits down in the chair next to him. At the only open seat at the bar.

He’s already drunk and he throws his arm around Blaine’s shoulders. “Blaine,” he says slowly. “ _Blaine.”_

Blaine shifts uncomfortably and gives Kurt an apologetic look. “Hey,” he says back. “Hi.”

“How _are_ you?” he asks, leaning in close. “I miss you so much sometimes.”

Blaine grimaces and he sees Kurt tense up.

“You don’t,” Blaine argues. “And — look, I’m here with —”

Suddenly, someone calls Kurt’s name from across the bar. Kurt stands quickly, shoots Blaine a forced smile, and grabs his drink. “You two … catch up,” he says. “I’m going to say hi to my friends.”

“No, Kurt, wait—” he starts. But Kurt’s already gone.

A few minutes later, before Blaine’s able to wave the bartender over to pay the bill, Kurt’s heading towards the door with a few of his friends. “Rachel’s going to give me a ride,” he says with that same forced smile. “Call me sometime.”

“Wait, just give me one—”

But he’s out the door and Blaine’s pretty sure that _call me sometime_ means _thanks for being an a-hole and if you call, I won’t answer._

:

He calls an hour later. And Kurt _does_ answer.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine rushes to say. “That was totally awkward and I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

Kurt hesitates. “I know. I shouldn’t have rushed out. It was just —”

“Awkward,” Blaine fills in. “I know. If your ex showed up, I’d want to head for the door, too.”

“Okay,” Kurt says, sounding relieved. “So we’ll try again.”

:

On Friday, they try again. They go to a tiny Chinese restaurant that neither of them have ever heard of before in hopes that no one else they know (or have previously dated) knows about it either.

Good news: no one else _is_ there. They’re alone and it’s sort of romantic and they get almost ten whole minutes of flirty conversation before —

Bad news: no one else is there because the restaurant is two steps away from being shut down thanks to numerous health code violations.

They’re both immediately, intensely, _violently_ hit with waves of nausea. They spend twenty minutes in side-by-side stalls in the men’s room ridding the contents of their stomach.

Food poisoning isn’t romantic.

They decide to try again next weekend.

:

They go to a club. Pretty poor choice, Blaine realizes belatedly.

Kurt’s an attractive man.

People at clubs have _eyes._ Kurt doesn’t go unnoticed. (To be fair, neither does Blaine.)

They get separated almost immediately and when Blaine finally tracks him down and hands him a drink, Kurt’s already swarmed. He cocks an eyebrow at Blaine says, “That tall guy with the sexy stubble sure has his eye on you.” He doesn’t sound mad but he doesn’t sound pleased either.

Blaine’s mouth falls open. “You had three guys grinding on you like, four seconds ago. And hey — look, that guy actually has his hand on your hip _right now._ ”

Kurt shakes the guy off and tries to navigate his way off the dance floor, tugging Blaine behind him. They find some standing room towards the back of the bar, finally managing to be alone. They’re only talking for a few moments when Kurt spots something over Blaine’s shoulder and falters. His smile fades and he swallows thickly. “Let’s go. Do you mind if we go?”

“Not at all,” Blaine says with a frown, turning to see what it is that’s upset him so much. “Are you okay?”

Kurt smiles weakly. “That’s him. My ex. The one I told you about the night we met.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, eyes landing on some guy practically having sex right on the dance floor.

“And that’s the guy I walked in on, the one — well, I’m sure you get the picture.”

“Come on,” Blaine says softly, putting their drinks on the bar then tugging Kurt outside.

They walk back to Kurt’s apartment and don’t say much. The mood’s broken so Blaine gives Kurt a polite kiss on the cheek and whispers a soft _good night_ before watching him head inside.

Kurt texts him _, Let’s try again next weekend?_

:

And the next weekend after that — that one’s the worst.

Blaine shows up with a bouquet of flowers, desperately trying to start the night off on the right foot. Fun fact, though: Kurt is incredibly allergic to daffodils. He refuses to let them go for some reason so they walk to the restaurant with Kurt sneezing every four seconds.

Then they get to the restaurant and the whole menu is written in French. Fun fact: Blaine took four years of Latin.

He tries to order something but god knows what it _is_ or how to pronounce it. After he butchers it, the waiter repeats it back with his flawless French and a wink towards Kurt.

Blaine clenches his jaw but doesn’t say anything, just gives them both a polite smile.

After a few more sneezes, Blaine gathers the flowers and says, “I’m so sorry about these.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt says, confused. “You didn’t know.”

“I’m just going to—”

“Don’t throw them away,” Kurt interrupts. “A daffodil bouquet shouldn’t be discarded like that.”

Blaine hesitates. After a few seconds of consideration and a quick glance around the tables around them in the outdoor patio, he stands and makes his way to an older gentleman sitting alone, looking like he’s waiting for someone.

“Excuse me,” Blaine says. “My date’s allergic to these. Do you think your date would like a bouquet of flowers?”

The man beams at him and later, when his wife comes in and almost cries when she sees the flowers, Blaine figures it was a good decision. Kurt’s giving him an odd look, though, and Blaine apologizes. “I’m sorry I gave your flowers away.”

Kurt gives him a small smile and doesn’t say anything.

The food comes out wrong — or who knows, maybe it’s right, maybe it’s how French food is supposed to taste. After Blaine pokes at his for a bit, he notices Kurt isn’t eating his either.

“Is French food supposed to taste like this?” Blaine asks in a hushed voice.

Kurt wrinkles his nose. “I hope not.”

So when Blaine pays the bill and hears Kurt’s stomach growl, he heads towards the closest place still open.

Fun fact: Taco Bell is open until four a.m.

“Taco Bell it is,” Kurt says with a smile.

:

When he drops Kurt back off at his apartment, he half expects Kurt to run up the stairs away from Blaine and this horrible, miserable date.

“Thank you for tonight,” he says instead, leaning in to give him a pretty intense goodnight kiss.

“Wait, what?” Blaine says. “Tonight was _awful_. I bought you flowers that made you sick then gave them away.”

“You tried to do something sweet for your date,” Kurt argues, “and then helped someone else do something sweet for _his_ date.”

“I couldn’t even order my food, Kurt,” he adds. “Our waiter kind of highlighted that fact.”

Kurt hums. “He flirted with me right in front of you and instead of saying something cutting and rude like _I_ would have done, you were polite and decided to be a gentleman.”

“I guess,” he says, unconvinced. “But then I took you to a _Taco Bell._ The height of class.”

He shrugs. “You made the best of a bad situation. I thought it was sweet.”

Blaine falters. “Really?”

“Really,” Kurt says quietly, leaning in for another pretty heated kiss. And then: “Do you want to come up?”

“Yes,” he says immediately, a little breathless.

:

They finally get a real _normal_ date the next morning, coffee in the back corner of Kurt’s coffee shop. Kurt’s hair is sticking up at a weird angle and Blaine’s hair — well, that’s just tragic, really. No one gets food poisoning, there’s no surprise ex-boyfriend, and there’s no dance club music in the background hindering all conversation.

“Can this be our first date?” Blaine asks hopefully. “I’d rather tell people about _this_ date than any of the other ones.”

Kurt shrugs and gives him a flirty smile. “Sure, but I don’t put out on the first date,” he teases. “So that’s your call.”

(Fun fact: he totally does.)


	14. Under the Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one wherein they're in a boyband.

**U + Me = Us (Under the Mistletoe) :**

“Not this song again,” Blaine sighs as he walks through the tiny convenience store, holding Kurt’s hand in his own. “I _hate_ this song.”

Kurt smiles to himself. “Oh? I think it’s rather catchy.”

“You do not,” Blaine groans. “You just pretend to like it because you know we get royalties every time they play it.”

Kurt hums. “This song’s not so bad.”

There are so many things Blaine loves about Christmas but hearing _U Light Me Up (Like a Xmas Tree)_ every four minutes is not one of them.

:

It’s been five years since they left L.A. in their rear-view mirror, the boyband officially dissolved, but Blaine cannot escape that goddamn song.

:

They move every year or so. Kurt finds some obscure place while he’s reading a travel magazine or messing around online or god-knows-where, gets super psyched about it, pretends to give Blaine a choice in the matter, then packs everything up so that they can start all over again someplace new.

It’s fun, actually. After a life on the road on a New Directions tour bus for the better part of a decade, they don’t mind the change of scenery every once in awhile. They’re used to it. It’s the life they’ve known.

This year, they’re holed up in some tiny town in Colorado where it feels like it’s always snowing. There’s a gas station and an elementary school and a tiny convenience store and that’s about it.

It’s a tiny town. Like, really tiny.

And the best part? Most of the residents are old. Like, really old.

No one there knows who Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson are. No one’s ever heard of New Directions, the successful former boyband with the obnoxiously catchy pop songs.

:

They’re driving to the next town over to pick up a few things from the grocery store and to get the oil changed in their car when the song comes on again.

Kurt sings along with the chorus.

Blaine clenches his jaw. “I will regret this song until I’m dead.”

He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “This song’s not so bad.”

“Uh, wrong,” Blaine argues.

Kurt sings along with the second verse.

:

Blaine waits with the car while Kurt goes to the store. As he sits in the little waiting area reading a _Newsweek_ , the goddamn song comes on again.

“I hate this frigging song,” says the guy sitting next to him. “They play it every frigging ten seconds.”

“You and me both,” Blaine sighs.

“My kid used to have this CD, some dumb teenybopper group.”

Blaine wants to be insulted that this guy’s ripping on his former boyband but when this song’s playing in the background, he can’t make himself care.

“She played it on repeat every year until I threw that thing away,” the guy continues. “And now that she’s away at college, you’d think I’d get some peace and quiet but _no_ , this song is inescapable.”

Blaine sighs again. “Trust me, I hear you.”

The guy is quiet for a moment. “These kids have ruined the holiday season.”

Blaine frowns because maybe that’s a _bit_ harsh.

They’re both humming it against their own will by the time the last chorus fades out.

:

Kurt’s singing softly to himself while he makes lunch one weekend. “ _We’ll snuggle by the fire / You’ll be my knight / I’ll be your squire…”_

Blaine stares at the ceiling and tries to think happy, Christmas-y thoughts.

The horrible part is that Kurt thinks Blaine is outside shoveling so he’s not even singing it to piss him off. He’s _genuinely_ singing the song. Like, with feeling and intent.

Blaine practically runs outside. He’s never been so excited to shovel ten inches of snow.

:

Cooper sends him an email titled _Gift Ideas for Mom and Dad._ He links to some promo video for a china set their mom wants but when Blaine clicks —

It’s not a promo video. It’s Blaine belting out “ _Come find me under the mistletoe / pucker up and blow / me a kiss to keep me warm / my Christmas and forever beau—-”_

He slams the laptop shut before he can see the rest of the bootlegged concert footage.

:

Blaine heads back to town a few days later, car radio turned off. He waits to pick up their take-out Chinese because if one place should be safe from terrible boyband Christmas pop over the holidays, it should be a take-out Chinese place.

Instead he hears soft music playing over the speakers, Mike and Puck crooning, “ _Come here, girl, sit on Santa’s lap / and I’ll show you a present you can unwrap.”_

“I hate my life,” he mutters quietly to the sweet old lady sitting next to him.

“I hate this fucking song,” the sweet old lady says.

:

But the worst.

Dear god, the worst.

On Christmas Eve, they’re watching the Charlie Brown Christmas special, wrapped together in a very expensive warm blanket on their very expensive couch, two mugs of hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows on the coffee table, fireplace crackling. It’s pretty much the best way to spend the holiday.

The movie ends and the news comes on but they’re too busy lazily making out on the couch to bother to change the channel on their very expensive TV. Suddenly, though, a familiar five part harmony breaks the mood. Blaine jolts up, horrified. How is this song _everywhere?_

It’s a news story of some guy proposing to his girlfriend in front of the Rockefeller tree, speakers blaring out New Directions classic holiday hit, the chorus on repeat: “ _Oh you light me up like a Christmas tree / tonight’s the night I get down on bended knee / and ooh, ask you to marry me.”_

Kurt sings along softly.

Blaine almost weeps with frustration.

He slumps down, defeated, and buries his head in the crook of Kurt’s neck. “Make it stop, please,” he whispers. And rationally, he knows he shouldn’t hate this song as much as he does since its royalties helped pay for their very expensive TV and their very expensive couch but irrationally, the song makes him want to set things on fire.

“This song’s not so bad,” Kurt says. Blaine can hear the smile in his voice and it almost makes him more miserable that Kurt’s not on his side about this. “You might like it if you give it a chance.”

Blaine’s head pops up and he gives Kurt a blank stare. “Nothing,” he says forcefully, “nothing could _ever_ make me like this song.”

Kurt’s quiet for a few moments. “You looked at me during this song,” he says softly. “When we performed at Madison Square. You sang about a kiss to keep you warm and you looked right at me.”

He tries to remember that performance but he’s seriously spent years trying to block that song from every memory he has. “Did I?”

“You did,” he says. “And that’s when I knew. My heart started fluttering around because I wanted you to _mean_ those words. I even messed up my next two lyrics. That was the moment, Blaine, the moment when I knew I was in love with you.”

Blaine blinks at him, speechless.

:

The following year, Blaine hears it on the radio just after Thanksgiving and thinks, _This song’s not so bad._


	15. xoxo redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one wherein Blaine has a secret admirer. (Kurt's POV.)

**xoxo redux:**

There’s a guy that works part-time in the campus library.

Kurt notices him three days into his first semester at college. He has a massive crush on him one month into his freshman year, like a twelve-years-old-all-over-again kind of crush. By Christmas break, he learns that his first name is Blaine, he’s a Theater major (even though Kurt’s never seen him in any of his classes), and he has quite possibly the dreamiest smile Kurt’s ever seen. And _oh,_ those eyes.

They’ve never spoken or anything and in fact, he’s pretty sure Blaine doesn’t even know he exists. He learns all of these things because he spends a lot of time at the library and he’s got like, super-sonic hearing. When Blaine talks to people at the circulation desk or to an occasional friend that stops by or to co-workers while he’s putting books away, Kurt listens intently and hangs on to every word.

Then his sophomore year happens and right in the second row of Kurt’s Intro to Musicals course, sitting alone and looking handsome as ever, is Blaine, Kurt’s librarian with the breathtaking eyes.

:

Blaine smiles easily. He looks at everyone like they’re interesting and fascinating even if they’re the blandest type of people that Kurt’s ever seen. He’s charming, he’s polite. He has the most adorable kind of old-fashioned sweetness that Kurt didn’t think actually existed outside of black-and-white movies he used to watch as a kid.

He’s a lot of things Kurt _isn’t_.

He’s the type of guy that Kurt’s pretty sure he was meant to find someday, the type he’d fall in love with.

He’s almost positive that Blaine Anderson is the one he’s supposed to share his _happily ever after_ with someday.

He just can’t get the nerve up to say a simple _hello._

:

They’re listening to bits of the _Bells Are Ringing_ soundtrack halfway through the year when it hits him, when he realizes he’s in love. He never really thought someone could be in love with a person they never actually met but he _is_. Because not meeting someone isn’t the same as not _knowing_ someone.

He knows Blaine has a brother that he only talks about every once in awhile although he can’t quite figure out their relationship and how Blaine feels about him. He thinks maybe he’ll ask him someday, maybe after he says that simple initial _hello._

Kurt knows that he’s smart. Blaine answers their professor’s questions with articulate, original responses. And Kurt’s even seen him around campus with a Calculus book and a few Latin texts.

He knows that Blaine is _nice_. He’s good to people and he’s respectful and he has a genuine warmth to him, something that sort of takes Kurt’s breath away. Blaine’s always so _sincere_.

Plus, the guy is incredibly, amazingly, _disarmingly_ attractive. There’s also that.

So as Kurt listens to the song, as he hears those lyrics, it hits him. He’s in love and he wants Blaine to be in love, too. He knows that anyone would be lucky to have Blaine Anderson love them and Kurt wants to be that lucky person, _god_ does he. And somehow, though he couldn’t begin to explain why, Kurt thinks that maybe he could be that lucky person. It’s just a feeling he has, a sense of possibility that settles deep into his bones.

Someday, maybe Blaine will be just as in love as he is. She sings _long before I met you I was sure I would find you someday, somehow._

Kurt writes the lyrics down in his notebook for some reason.

:

When he’s going over his class notes at the library two days later, he sees the lyrics written neatly in his own handwriting. He looks up and catches Blaine laughing at something and it hits him. Maybe he’s not ready to go up to him point-blank and give him that simple _hello_ yet but maybe he can say it in his own way.

So Kurt re-writes the lyrics on an index card, surreptitiously slides it in between a few reference books on Blaine’s book cart, and makes a hasty exit.

:

The rest, as they say, is history. 


End file.
